Let Go of the Rest
by hpfanfreak06
Summary: He doesn't want to be sixteen again. Life is supposed to move and there are supposed to be reflections of that person you were. When you didn't really know what love was, or if your friends would always stay your friends. Possibility, hope, they were there. Life was there. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This started as a part of a song drabble, but it needed to be more. It's sort of inspired by "Shadows and Regrets" by Yellowcard, but only loosely. This first chapter is a bit of an introduction, but it's needed. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for any reviews! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

Being back in Lima is a bit surreal. He's only come back a few times since leaving it all behind. But driving down the streets it all comes back, the memories of what was once familiar. The friends he had, who he was before. Most of it, he's not proud of, but he changed, music helped him change. When he left, he promised he wouldn't hold on to any of it, the bad stuff, maybe even some of the good stuff. It worked, for the most part. Sure he has no regrets (well except a few that involve dumpsters), but you can't erase a part of the world you existed in. It's there, fading sometimes, like worn photographs. Nothing but a cluster of shadows, only awakened when you step into a room or drive down a street.

He doesn't want to be sixteen again. Life is supposed to move and there are supposed to be reflections of that person you were. When you didn't really know what love was, or if your friends would always stay your friends. Possibility, hope, they were there. Life was there.

Driving back into that familiar driveway, he prays he's not here too long.

His mother was a bit shocked when he told her he was moving out of the country after high school. Joining the Army had been a mistake. He'd wanted to find where he fit in the world, so when the Unites States government gave him a way out, he took it. Jumped at the chance to see things, live things. So he took his small savings and college fund and bought a ticket to Dublin.

The Irish were kind, welcoming, but even the young ones had a bit of sorrow in the back of their eyes. Scars ran deep in the vibrant green country. He talked to men in pubs, left a message of hope on the white peace wall in Belfast, and stuck his feet in the waters along the Dingle Peninsula.

He went to England and watched a performance at the Globe Theater and one in the West End (thinking of nothing but her through both Acts).

In Italy he ate the best pizza of his life. But missed all the grease at Lima Bowl.

It was when he backtracked to Germany, that he decided he missed home. That and he only had enough for one plane ticket.

After spending close to a year traveling, he stopped by home first. But only long enough to do his laundry.

He figured he could find his purpose on the West Coast. Or maybe he just wanted to be as far away from her as possible. Finding work was easier than he thought. Turns out Puck had moved himself out there not long after Finn took a plane across the ocean. They ran into each other on the beach. Puck was trying to impress local college girls with his lackluster surfing skills and when he saw Finn he almost looked relieved. He'd spent the last year working for a local bar, and when the owner decided to go on a permanent vacation, Puck took over. Business had been booming, but they'd lost a bar tender. Finn had no idea how to mix drinks, but he took the job anyway.

They rented a two bedroom apartment two blocks from the shore. Despite its impressive location, the water barely ran and the windows had to be held up with boards. But they had a landlord who let them pay half price if they volunteered as the buildings handymen.

The bar continued to bring in profit. Working as a bar tender was quick paced, kind of exciting, and it gave great tips. Finn often wondered how Puck was legally able to run a bar at nineteen and employ an underage bar tender. He never asked questions though.

On Wednesday nights the bar held acoustic shows. Finn and Puck even played a few times, it was sort of thrilling to have people other than your friends see your talent.

Life was good that first year.

The cops started lurking around the start of that next summer. Fearing possible jail time, Puck sold the bar to some hotshot entrepreneur for a huge price. It was enough to pay rent for the next six months and probably beyond.

For that half a year Finn was jobless. He'd saved up enough in tips for groceries, but even that was slowly depleting. It was during his morning run that he saw the advertisement. A local music store was hiring. He'd followed the address about five blocks from the apartment. It was located next to a coffee shop, and when Finn stepped through the glass door the smell of coffee wafted through the air. The guy at the front desk didn't even ask for a resume. He was hired on the spot. Something about how he looked like a "music guy."

So every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday he shuffled through old albums, alphabetizing and clearing space for new editions. The days were long, but the manager let him play whatever he wanted (except for Barry Manelow) and even let him bang away on one of the drum sets in the sound proof room. It certainly wasn't the worst job in the world.

Puck eventually ran away to Vegas with some girl whose name was a Season and Finn was forced to find a smaller apartment.

It helped when he found a flyer outside the music store for a band in need of a drummer. They played locally and did mostly covers, but it gave Finn a chance to work on his craft.

After a couple months of playing at bars, someone noticed him. The guy was sitting at a back table, with a glass of scotch. At the end of the first set, he came up to him and offered him a job. An up and coming artist needed a drummer, he would start on Monday.

Finn found that he loved being in the recording studio, especially when the producers would take his suggestions. They recorded the album over the course of that Spring. When Finn's birthday arrived in May, the album was released, but didn't take off as the record company had hoped. They kept Finn on, using him when other drummers couldn't make a session or when one didn't pan out. It was fun and it was his career.

Then he got the call, packed up most of his belongings and left for Lima. He told the record company he would be gone indefinitely. They didn't take it well, but he wasn't fired. He was given three weeks of leave, given the situation. And he's grateful.

So here he is back in Lima, ready to knock on his parents front door. He really REALLY hopes he's not here to long.

**AN/2: So what you do think? Is this worth continuing?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Here's chapter two. I had a little trouble starting it off, but I am really happy with the end result. Hope you enjoy! And thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites and follows! Keeps me writing! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

He knocks, waiting for someone to open the door and the next three weeks to come hurtling at him. His thoughts had been unsettled the moment he left his new home on the West Coast. Being in that place, where no one knew him, and there were far too many people to remember him, was freeing. But sometimes, the choice is made for you.

There's a click and the front door comes open. Burt Hummel has aged in the way most men do, first the hair and then a weight in the face that tries it's best to hide beneath any scruff. He looks tired, probably surviving on cups of black coffee and cinnamon toast.

"Finn, you made it."

"Yeah, I made good timing. How are you?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Now, why don't you come in. Need help with your bags?"

"Don't worry about it, I'm not in any hurry."

His stepfather lets him into the house and the smell of lavender candles and microwave popcorn hits his nose. Another familiar thing he smiles at, but wants to forget.

The wall color is the same and the photos hanging along the staircase haven't changed since high school. Even the floors feel familiar under his feet.

He wants to ask the question that's been settling in his brain since the call, but instead chickens out and opts for a safer, easier one.

"So, is Kurt here yet?"

Finn hadn't seen his step brother in a year. They talked at least once a week, but living on opposite sides of the country meant little face to face conversation, except for the rare holiday's they both came home. Kurt was living his dream, Finn couldn't really blame him for that.

"He called about an hour ago, said his plane should land around five. I said I'd pick him up-"

"I can do it. It'll give us time to talk, plus I'm sure you have enough on your table already."

"Oh, ok, if it's not too much trouble."

"Really, I don't mind. If it's alright, I'm to head up stairs to freshen up. Long flight and all."

Burt nods, seemingly somewhere else.

He heads up stairs, fully intent on going straight to the bathroom, when he passes by his old room. The door is shut, a tiny bit of dust lingering on the handle. With a click the door swings open. He's expecting a guest room, because that's what every parent does when their kid moves out. But it hasn't changed. Not the furniture, or the sheets on the bed. It's eerie, seeing something from what feels like a past life, staring him in the face.

Every trophy or medal he's received is still perched along the shelves above the desk. Pictures still hang on the walls, memories he's stashed away because they were important, but he'd rather brush aside.

Standing there in the doorway of his old room, he knows he won't be staying here tonight.

When he comes back down stairs, he hears Burt arguing with someone on the phone.

"Doesn't cover everything my ass! Look, there's got to be something you can do for me. Some sort of loophole, anything. You know what maybe I'll just find another company! Don't tell me to calm down! I won't calm down until-God dammit they hung up."

Finn felt sixteen again, in the way when you hear a parent arguing on the phone and it scares you enough to send you back up the stairs, waiting until they tell you dinner is ready. He's practically a grown up now, and upstairs was a lot worse, so he walks slowly in the direction of the kitchen.

"Who was that on the phone?"

"Oh hey Finn. It was just the insurance company. Nothing important."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah, of course. Actually you know what? Kurt should be landing within the hour. You might want to leave now, to beat the traffic."

He knows he's being shut out and maybe at one point that would have bothered him, but he's just going to do what he's told. It's easier.

So, he gets in his overpriced rental and starts down the road. Once he's on the highway and leaving this place of memories, he relaxes, turns on the radio and watches for his exit.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

He sees Kurt standing along the curb, wearing an outfit reminiscent of his days at McKinley. Before he really knew what high fashion was and New York told him the truth.

Stopping directly in front of the curb, he honks the horn. Kurt jumps a little for spotting him. Getting out of the car he heads toward his stepbrother.

"Hey Finn. Kind of surprised to see you here."

"Burt has a lot on his plate, so I offered. And plus, we haven't seen each other in a while. Thought we could catch up."

Lugging Kurt's suitcase into the truck he takes a breath. He loves his step-brother he does, but he knows he'll bring it up. And he's not ready to say it all out loud.

It's silent for the first few minutes of the drive back to the house. Before Kurt speaks, something Finn's always been able to sense before it happens.

"So how are you doing? I know that's a typical question and maybe you don't have an answer, but I have to ask it, because you're my brother and I honestly want to know."

He doesn't know how to answer. So he goes with the obvious answer, the one people who really don't care ignore and those who give a crap, know you're lying.

"I'm fine."

"Are you going to visit? Dad says because of the circumstances they'll forgo the usual rules and let us in when we want. I might go tonight. Would you like to come with me?"

"Maybe tomorrow Kurt. I just can't…not yet."

Kurt stay's quiet after that and they keep driving.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

He drops Kurt off at the house, telling him he's just going for a drive. It's a lie of course.

Instead he heads to a hotel, because he can't sleep in his old room, in that house with memories he wants to brush aside, one's he's terrified he'll never have again.

The hotel bar is fairly typical of a hotel in Ohio. It's booths are lackluster and the lighting is terrible, but there's a fairly decent jazz band playing. Sitting himself down in front of the bar, he gets the bartenders attention.

He's got his first scotch in front of him, when he hears it. Turning around, he finds his past staring him in the face.

Life can hand you whatever it wants, tonight, in this hotel bar, it handed him a jazz singer in the form of Rachel Berry.

Throwing down the rest of his drink, he leaves before she recognizes him. It's better this way, really, they had their chance. He sent her on her way, hoped against hope she would come back. When she didn't call, or write, or wonder about him, he moved on. Well, as much as you can move on from your past.

Still he can't help but ask, why after giving her the world, she's back here, in Lima.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Hours later, he's still awake. He wants to shake her away, say it doesn't matter, she's someone he once knew. But he knows she's more than that, regardless of whatever lie he tells himself.

Some late night talk show is playing on the television and he's got a few text messages from Kurt, checking to see if he's coming home and alive. He sends him one telling him he's at a hotel and turns his phone off.

He starts to drift off, as the performer of the night sings some song about lost love, when there's a knock at the door.

Assuming it's Kurt, he lumbers out of bed, pressing up against the door to look through the peep hole.

It's not Kurt.

Reluctantly and because part of him is still that person in high school, he opens the door.

"Hello Finn."

She's always been beautiful, and even if he's still so mad at her and tells himself he wants nothing to do with her, he can't help but think she's beautiful.

"What do you want Rachel?"

"I saw you down at the bar, you left pretty quickly. It's weird, I don't think I've ever seen you leave any of my performances."

"Well, there's a first time for everything."

He knows he's being rude, but he wants her to leave him alone.

"Can I come in? Just to talk?"

"Look, it's been a long day-"

"I know."

"Know about what?"

"Your mother."

"What about her?"

"That she's sick."

She can't know, he hasn't told anyone. Not even the record company knows everything.

"How do you know that?"

"Believe it or not, I'm still friends with Kurt. When he told me your mother has-"

"Please don't say it. If you say it, it's real."

"Brain cancer. And from what Kurt told me, she doesn't have much longer. Look I know you hate me, but just know I'm here for you. Whether you want me to be or not."

He's not sure if it's the words "brain cancer" or how nice she's being, but his knees collapse underneath him and he's sobbing in the hallway of the hotel.

In the arms of his past.

**AN/2: I hate doing that to Carol. Next chapter will hopefully be out soon! Stay tuned! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: This story has been so much fun to write, even with the slightly dark material. It's heading in the direction I want it to and I'm enjoying writing a Finn and might not know necessarily what to do with Rachel. I'm hoping to have another chapter up sometime tomorrow or Tuesday. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for all the follows, favorites and reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

It's an odd feeling, letting everything that built up inside you, spill out in front of someone you don't really know anymore. He doesn't want to find comfort in any of it, he still wants to hate her, but she's running her hand along his neck like she used to, and the scent of her perfume is relaxing him.

"Shhh, it will be okay."

Her voice brings him back. He remembers where he is and who he's with. Removing himself from her arms he stands up, embarrassed by the scene he was just a part of in a hotel hallway.

"Finn?"

"Just, just go away Rachel. Please leave me alone."

"You expect me to just leave you? After what just happened? Finn, I know we haven't exactly talked in years, but I like to think we're still friends, at least in some way."

"Rachel, we haven't been anything since the moment you chose. I was left looking like the idiot that thought of nothing but you for months, just to be thrown aside like Tuesday morning garbage. And you think I want to confide in you? Well, you're crazier than I thought."

She's hurt he knows it, and for a moment that nabs at his heart. Until he reminds himself that he's right. She discarded him.

"What was I supposed to think Finn? You were gone for _months. _I cried myself to sleep so sure you either hated me or had been hurt. No one would tell me anything, not even Kurt. So don't think for a moment that I didn't hurt too. Because I did. You weren't the only one in love."

And with that, she walks off. Giving him one last glance. One that says she's still worried about him. He stands there, until the elevator door open.

That part of him that's still in high school, begs to run after her. Apologize and tell her everything he's been afraid to say. But his new self, it's not as sorry.

* * *

He wakes up to some local car commercial blaring, the volume turned up by his sleeping body on top of the controller. Hitting mute, he lets his heart calm itself. Rolling over and trying to go back to sleep, his mind replays last night, and he knows he's up now.

Rachel was once _that _person. The one who always knew exactly what to say, and would listen without complaint or judgment. But then they fell apart and he didn't really have a person any more.

Last night, she just happened to be there and one night with her doing everything she did when she was _that _ person, isn't going to change anything. She has to know that.

With great reluctance he turns his phone back on. Eight text messages and three voicemails, all from Kurt. It doesn't surprise him, his stepbrother is persistent and Burt's mind is on other things.

And that's when he remembers. His mother has brain cancer and is dying. Brain cancer. Dying. It's the sentence that won't leave him alone, blaring at him beneath his eyelids as he tries to sleep. When he found out, he didn't even ask questions, just hopped on the next plane to Ohio. Hell, he's still terrified to step foot in the hospital.

The bedside clock shows it's almost noon.

He doesn't want to face the day.

* * *

Kurt is sitting at the kitchen table when he finally makes his way back the house. He's got nothing but a glass of milk in front of him, and it reminds him of all those talks they had back in high school. Rachel never even new about those.

"Hey Kurt, sorry I didn't get back to you, I just really needed to sleep-"

"I talked to Rachel."

He knows where this is going and he doesn't want to hear it.

"Kurt please, not now-"

"She's confused. As she should be."

"Are you seriously taking her side? Come on Kurt, you know what happened. Do you really expect me to trust her again?!"

"That's not what I'm saying Finn, and I am certainly not choosing sides. She's wanted nothing for the last three years but to talk to you. But because of your ego, she can't get a word in edge wise."

He doesn't understand why Kurt is saying this. That night, he was there too, saw the whole thing unfold, and he's still telling him he's the wrong one.

"This has nothing to do with my ego. She broke me Kurt. Everything I did, I chose to do because I loved her. Plain and simple. And how does she repay me? By shacking up with the first guy she meets."

"Do you really think so little of her? If you would just listen-"

"Sorry Kurt but I don't need to hear any of her excuses. We're over, have been for years. So just drop it."

"Fine, but that doesn't mean it's dead and buried. What you two had was too special to be ruined the way it was."

In another universe, or maybe just four or five years ago, he would think what they had was special, but now, he knows better. Special things just don't last.

"So, are you going to the hospital today? Dad said, the doctors are seeing some improvement."

"I can't Kurt okay. Just not yet."

"She keeps asking for you. Dad and I can't keep making excuses for you. I know it's hard but, she's your mother Finn."

"That's exactly why I can't. My mother is lying in a hospital bed, _dying_, and I'm to chicken shit to see her. It's just, maybe if I stay away, never go in there, it will all just fade away and then everything will be the way it was before."

"Well, I'm going over there now. God knows Dad isn't eating. Let me know when you want to go and I'll drive you."

"Okay. I think I'll just hang out here for a while."

Kurt nods, walking out of the kitchen, the door closing behind him.

He waits a few minutes, listening as the car starts and seemingly disappears down the street, before leaving himself.

* * *

Somehow he finds himself at the hotel bar, that same glass of scotch in front of him. He knows drinking at two in the afternoon might be frowned upon, but it's loud there. Loud keeps him from thinking too much.

He's halfway through his second glass when he hears her across the bar. That part of him that can't help stop his eyes from wandering towards her, watches her for a moment, as some fruity drink is set in front of her.

Turning back to his drink, he knows she'll see him. The chair next to him rattles.

"Could we just pretend for a moment that we've never met? We're just two people who happen to enjoy an afternoon drink. I'm a singer, and you're this wealthy business man from out of state. We're both unattached, but like company. So I sit next to you, and I introduce myself. Hello, my name is Rachel."

"Rachel, what are you doing? We both know that won't work. Our past is too filled with each other for us to call ourselves strangers."

"But you said it yourself, we aren't anything anymore, so why not be strangers? Hello, my name is Rachel, and you are?"

He hesitates, because it's nothing but a game. One that covers up lies, broken hearts, and…love. But the scotch is talking, so he shakes her outstretched hand.

"Finn Hudson."

"Pleasure to meet you. So are you from Lima?"

"No, I'm here on business. The record company I work for likes to scout for talent in small towns."

It flows so easily, but in a way it's kind of truth. He hasn't wanted to give her any form of the truth in years.

"Oh really? Found any undiscovered talent yet?"

"Not, so much. Have to say though, your voice isn't too shabby."

"You've heard me sing?"

"Last night, here at the bar. Is that your latest gig?"

"Oh I only do this once in a while. I'm between shows right now, so I thought it would be a nice break to come back to my routes for a while. My fathers know the owner of this hotel, and they needed a singer, so I volunteered my services. It pays only in tips, but I've got quite a good voice as you know."

"Yeah, it's best I've ever heard."

She blushes down to her neck and he smirks into his glass of scotch.

That's when he knows they're not really pretending anymore.

**AN/2: So Finn and Rachel might be fixing things. Or not. There's a whole lot to work through. Stay tuned! **

**AN/3: I just have to mention the episode two weeks ago. While I was sobbing from the moment Season's of Love started, I do wish they had shown clips or something.( Is it just me or is Glee terrible at the whole picture thing? Seriously every picture they use is a promo picture.) Watching the cast was heartbreaking and you could feel everything. Especially when Rachel referred to Finn as her person. That whole scene just wore me out. So sad. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: A lot of kind of heavy stuff comes out in this chapter. And it will continue. But things need to be said and hearts need to be mended. Even if it might take a while. I'm going to start the next chapter of this right after publishing this one. So hopefully by Saturday, that will be done. My other current story, "The Farm" will be updated soon for those reading it. I've needed to do some brainstorming, but it will get back on track. This is what I get for starting two stories at once! I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and thank you for all of your kind reviews, follows and favorites! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

* * *

She appeared like a delightful memory, smiling at all the right moments, lifting her wine class in a way that was just her. The time passed, hours in a bar, minutes between each drink, only seconds after every familiar look. Until it was morning, well past midnight, the magic had left, leaving nothing but that delightful memory and no glass slipper.

He didn't see her for the remainder of the week. And in that week, he hid in his hotel room. From every person who told him to face reality, and the reality he didn't want to face. It was easier ordering room service and emptying the hotel mini bar. God would probably call him a coward.

At the end of the week, when Friday rolled around and everyone opened their eyes for the weekend, a knock came.

"I'm sorry, I know you want to clean the room, but could you come back tomorrow?"

"While I'm positive your room looks like every college male's dorm and there's who knows what growing in the sheets, I need you to open up for other reasons."

This is what happens when you unknowingly reconnect with your past.

"Come on Finn, just open the door. I only ask for five minutes of your precious time."

He knows her. And in knowing her, he's positive she'll stand outside his door, sighing loudly, and saying God knows what, until he gives in and lets her in.

There's an odd feeling in his chest as he stands up to open the door.

She's there behind it, arms crossed, in the way that used to make him smirk.

"What do you want? I'm kind of busy right now."

"Finn, you forget I know you. You've spent this week wallowing in self-pity and ordering room service."

"How would you know that?"

"For one the smell, God it reeks, and you have a mustard stain on your shorts. Plus you kind of eat like someone who thinks the world will end soon and the zombies will steal all you have."

"Fine, but only because I'm still a little of afraid of you."

"Good. Now move aside."

She moves past him, scrunching her nose.

"Okay, that's it. Shower now."

"Come on really?"

"Yes, and then you're taking me to lunch."

He doesn't argue further. Maybe because she's Santana, or quite possibly because she's the only person from his past that's never really changed. There's no surprises.

* * *

She drags him to Breadsticks and as they sit in a booth, he waits for whatever is about to come out of her mouth.

"Now that I've got you in front of me, it's time for you to listen. And listen carefully. Get your head out of your ass and call her. I'll even dial it for you."

"God, you too? What is it with everyone pushing this whole Rachel thing on me? Maybe I don't want to talk to her."

"Like hell, you don't. This is Berry we're talking about! I've never seen you just give her up. And don't give me that moving apart, "we're different people" bullshit. You may have grown up, but not from each other."

"Look, you know what happened. It was messy and it took me a long time to move past it. I'd rather not relive that. Any of it."

"Even the good stuff? Come on Finn, you know as well as I do, that you didn't even let her talk. You saw what you saw and ran away. It's what you do. And I for one would like to see that end."

"I didn't need to hear whatever explanation she had. If she really believed and trusted in what we had, she would have held on. But she let go. I can't forgive that."

"Then why spend an entire night talking to her in a bar?"

"A moment of weakness, I guess."

"Well, that moment of weakness sent mixed messages. Rachel is confused, hurt, and you're too stuck in your own pride to consider her feelings. So I'm going to say it one more time, grow some balls and call her, text her, I don't care. Just fix this! One week of hour long conversations with Berry are enough to send me to an institution."

"Fine, I'll message her after we eat."

He doesn't.

* * *

The Lima Bean was packed. Line's reached to the door, and every table was filled. But the hotel provided less than adequate coffee, and his head was craving the caffeine.

Ten minutes later he'd reached the front, ordering without looking up.

"Large black coffee please."

"Finn?"

There was no way Rachel Berry was a barista. And the way she said is name, it was as if she was embarrassed.

"You work here? But I thought you were filling in at the hotel?"

"Look, Finn, I really can't talk right now."

"You were lying. What aren't you telling me?"

He could see the desperation in her face, the way she was setting her jaw, trying not to cry in front of him. He knew he should back off, but she had lied, and he couldn't just let that go.

"Please Finn, not now. I promise we'll talk, just give me twenty minutes."

"Fine, I'll just be outside."

He pays for his coffee without word, welcoming the searing hot liquid down his throat.

There's a bench just outside the door, it's a welcome change from the crowded coffee house. He wonders what she'll say and he's not ready for the conversation, even if he pushed it.

Twenty minutes later his coffee is all but gone and she's still inside. He almost gets up, continuing his long streak of ignoring her. But he's too curious to move.

She comes out not five minutes later, wearing her old red coat, apron peeking out the bottom.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I couldn't step away."

"It's fine."

"You probably have a lot of questions, and while I don't think you're privy to my life, you're you, and I did tell you I thought we were friends. So I guess that means, no secrets."

He stares at her, trying to hold some kindness in his eyes. Maybe it will give her every reason to speak honestly, he doesn't know.

"After you left, everything was okay for a while, career wise. Leads were offered to me after first auditions, I was doing well in my classes. I told myself I would finish school, because even if nothing else went right, I would have that. But halfway through my junior year, I made the decision to break up with Greg. Turns out he holds grudges and did everything he could to stop me right where I was. My grades dropped because of the pressure, and I was forced to leave. I thought with just my talent I could get parts. Those grudges apparently went beyond NYADA. So I got a job, waitressing at this diner. And when it couldn't pay my rent, I got another part time job, dancing, at a club. The tips were more than my entire paycheck at the diner. So, I quit."

In the span of two minutes, the image he had always had of her is gone, vanished. The girl he knew, would never give herself dreams like this. She had better ones.

"In those three months at that club, I lost the person I was. Working twelve hour days just to please my boss, this greasy haired creep who wore flashy suits and smoked cigars. He told me I would get better tips if I "took a little more off". I told him no, that I wasn't that kind of girl, so he put his hands on me. Forced me against a wall. I fought back, with everything I had. And when he was on the floor, I told him I quit. Then I went back to my apartment, packed my bags, used what I had left to break my lease, and came back to Lima. My fathers were shocked of course, they never expected to find me on their doorstep, it was always New York or Bust. But they took me in, helped me get back on my feet. I've been here ever since."

"Wow. God, Rachel, I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, I got myself into this mess on my own."

"But maybe-"

"I'm the one that drove you away remember?"

"We don't have to talk about that now."

"Okay, thank you."

"Not a problem."

Because of some natural instinct, his hand finds its way on top of hers. He'd forgotten how soft they were.

"I should probably get back to work."

"Oh yeah, yeah, go ahead."

"I'll see you later?"

"Sure. And Rachel?"

"Yes, Finn?"

"Thank you for telling me."

She smiles lightly, stepping through the glass door and back into the coffee shop.

His steps are heavy as he heads down the sidewalk. The air stings his lungs and his eyes burn.

Nowhere in his assumptions of her life, did he fathom any of that. It makes him feel guilty, like it's somehow his fault. He knows it's not, not really.

There was a time when he was supposed to be the one to save her. And knowing that, well, maybe that's where the guilt comes from.

The past never stops, he fingers it's bound to catch up to him.

**AN/2: So yeah. Rachel's been having a pretty terrible time. Now, Finn may certainly find sympathy for what's happened to her, but that doesn't mean he's ready to forgive quite just yet. A certain "Greg" may be a big factor. Stay tuned!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I am so sorry for this late update. With the Christmas approaching work as been insane. But I promise to have another chapter of this up tomorrow. "The Farm" has been hard to completely figure out, so I might finish this story and then devote time to that one. But we'll see. This particular chapter is more of a filler, but sometimes those are needed. Thank you for your follows, favorites, reviews and your patience! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

He makes it to the front doors, before bolting back to his car.

No matter how much he loves and adores his mother, he just can't do it. The revealing conversation with Rachel, pushed him a little further. But not far enough to stand awkwardly in a sterile room, trying not to stare at the tubes coming out of her arm, and the monitor beeping by the bed.

He's never dealt with cancer. Kurt has, and maybe that's the reason he's trying so hard. Instead of letting his step brother hold his hand and let him know he understands, he keeps running.

It's not surprising that he ends up at McKinley. Part of him hopes he'll find that thing that gives him strength. He says he's grown up, found new ways to coup with life, but if the last week has shown him anything, it's that his past may have more lessons than he thought.

Today isn't a school day, it's a Sunday afternoon, when most of the world is at the grocery store, or bringing family together.

The doors are unlocked, and as he pushes them open, he's wearing his letterman's jacket and the halls are filled with students. He's important.

But then the echo of his footsteps bounce off his ear drums, and he's not that person.

All of his memories are here. In the black skid marks on the floor and the graffiti on the bathroom walls. He'd thought he found himself here, but when he made those decisions and left this familiar place, the only certain thing was his name.

The choir room is just down the hall on the first floor, the auditorium to the right. He chooses the latter, because Mr. Shuester left last year, that panel taking him to better opportunities, and some new teacher is trying too hard.

It smells the same. That dusty aroma mixed with that lemon scented cleaner they use all over the school. He feels that familiarity, which for most might be comforting, but like standing in his former home, he can't help the unsettling nausea in his stomach.

When he's in places like this, he knows why people runaway and never come back. Finally understands why Rachel had those dreams that meant so much. Sometimes the place where you grow up, isn't where you're meant to stay. Some do because they think they have nothing else. He thought like that.

Until he watched the girl he loved take over a city. Smile in her eyes and New York wind in her hair.

Of course, her dreams fell. And he's more unsure than ever.

* * *

He stops at the most popular flower shop in Lima, deciding he's only brave enough to send his mother her favorite orchids.

The bell dings as he walks through the door.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"Hi, I need to send a dozen purple orchids to Lima Memorial."

"Oh, you must be Carol's boy. How is she? We're all praying for her at Sunday services."

This hasn't happened yet. A stranger offering comfort. He doesn't know how to respond or react, because he can't.

He must have made some kind of throaty noise, because this stranger just looks at him with understanding and pity he doesn't deserve.

"It's quite alright dear, you don't have to say a word. Flowers are on the house, just send your mother our love. And keep your chin up."

Nodding wordlessly, he tries to smile gratefully as he turns and leaves through the door, guilt running through his veins.

He feels heavy, slumping into the seat of his car. Head in his hands, he rubs his eyes, hoping to ease it all. A passerby must have thought he was crying, as there's a knock on his window.

"Finn? Are you alright? Roll down your window!"

Of course it's her. It's always her.

"I'm fine, Rachel. There's a lot on my plate-"

"Come on, get out."

"What you mean get out?"

"Open your door and come with me. We're going for a walk. I won't take no for an answer."

Nothing about this is going to be comfortable. Not after the things she said or whatever speech she's going to give him.

He gets out of his car anyway, letting her lead him down the sidewalk.

"You don't have to do this you know."

"Do what?"

"_This_. Finding me in these vulnerable moments and trying so damn hard to make me okay."

"I can't help it. Seeing you sad, or upset, it sets off that _need. _The one that's screaming, make Finn smile! I won't just leave you alone and I'm not going away."

He'll never understand her ability to forgive people so easily. Becoming friends with her enemies and refusing to let anyone down. She's kept that part of herself from her past. He wishes he could find his.

* * *

She takes him to the park. They're silent the whole way, after her declaration that she wasn't giving up.

Families are leaving, evening coming out in its pink glow.

They sit on the swings, somehow still warm from the sun. His mind goes back to summers spent swinging, hands intertwined, laughing like the kids they were.

Now, they're just adults, awkwardly swinging back and forth.

"Okay, tell me what's wrong."

"I'm not sure if I can. Considering I can't seem to admit it to myself."

"Speaking from experience, the truth is so much easier to handle when you say it out loud."

"Well, umm…"

"Come on you can do it. You know I won't judge you, I promise."

He believes her.

"I still haven't gone to see my mom."

There's shock in her eyes, he's not surprised.

"But Finn, she's your mother."

"That's exactly why I can't. When you're a kid, your parents seem like superheroes. They never fail to have your lunch ready in the morning or get you to football practice on time, they save the day. Seeing my mom like she is, it's like cancer is this evil villain, slowly destroying her. And maybe she'll win, but if not…I can't lose her Rach."

This is the moment where he's supposed to cry, break down and surrender. It doesn't happen.

"Could you tell me about that day you showed up in New York?"

He doesn't expect her to mention that.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

**AN/2: The next chapter is set to be a flashback, so get ready. I'm finally getting a handle on this! Stay tuned!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Here is the next chapter I promised. I wrote it fairly quickly so I'm not sure how much I like it. But the plot is there, so it works. I'm hoping to start something tomorrow and have it done by Sunday. Thank you for staying with me! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

The cab comes to a sputtering stop at the steps of a tall concrete building, with wide windows and balconies only large enough for a plant. Rain is still pelting the streets and people, it's the kind of day New Yorker's complain about.

He pays the cabbie, giving him a small tip for getting here so quickly. The duffle bag on his shoulder is heavy, but what might happen, now that's he's here, weighs more heavily. He pat's the inside pocket of his jacket, letters he never sent. If she won't talk to him, he'll leave these.

Stepping up to the front of the building he eyes the set of buttons, Kurt and Rachel live on the fifth floor. Pressing it, he waits. One more time, still no answer. He's ready to call a cab, leave the letters in her mail box, when someone comes through the door. Catching it with his foot, he heads upstairs.

Their door has an ominous presence. He makes it across that threshold and it's all up to how she might respond. Knocking, he waits for it to slide open, silently praying it's Kurt, if anything for his forgiving nature.

The room beyond is silent, no footsteps or shouts of "I'm coming!"

"I don't think anyone's home. That Rachel girl had some kind of party to go to."

It's a neighbor, a girl about six foot, perfect complexion, probably a model.

"Do you know where?"

"As far as I know it's at that bar all those Broadway freaks go too."

"Okay, thanks for your help."

He debates leaving his bag outside the door, there's nothing too important in it. But then he remembers he's not in Lima and slings it back over his shoulder.

The subway gets him there quicker and cheaper than any cab would. He thinks if he lived here, he'd have a story for every day. That's the kind of place New York is.

Callbacks is filled to the brim with people, all with glasses of champagne and black tie attire. He looks out of place here, with his tattered jeans and polo from high school.

Until he sees her. And then it doesn't matter.

She looks different, in her tight black dress and heels that would bring her to his chest. But if he tries to envision the Rachel he knew, she wouldn't fit in either.

Kurt is next to her, wearing a sequined jacket and talking to some blonde woman.

He somehow makes it farther into the bar, intent on getting her attention, and is about halfway until it happens.

There's some guy next to her, with his hand on her waist, sending whispers through her ear. He's older, much older.

A hand falls on his shoulder.

"Finn!? What are you doing here? Does the Army know?"

"Kurt, who is that? With Rachel."

"Oh, that's Greg, he's this hotshot director for NYADA's Fall production. Went to Julliard at fifteen and has won more awards than I can count on my hands. Rachel says he's a genius."

Rachel hasn't seen him yet, her attention turned on the director. She's laughing at something he said, and he wants to run. This person in front of him, isn't Rachel. Not anymore.

But he's here, and maybe if he makes his presence known, some trigger will go off, and there she'll be, just as he remembered.

"I think I'll go say hi."

"Finn, I don't –"

Kurt's failed warning doesn't reach him. His feet move him through the crowd. And then he's in front of her, her back to him.

Instead of feeling him behind her, like she used too, she brings her head towards the director, and kisses him.

His eye's burn, but the need to collapse prevents his fist from clenching. He's not angry.

Deciding that watching the scene in front of him is too much, he bolts. The person he thought was his end all be all has chosen a different path, one that leaves him at the start, waving goodbye.

As he's running through the rain, every memory of them flashes in his eyes. He always thought this only happened when experiencing death.

She'd forgotten about him, something he swore somewhere in their relationship she promised. Yes he broke her heart, leaving her like he did, but should she have held on for a little longer?

That's the question that looms over his head as he stops running, hails a cab, and waves New York and Rachel, goodbye.

* * *

The party is nothing like she expected. There are only a few people she knows and because she's underage, the bar tender gave her some of that fake grape wine kids drink on Thanksgiving. Her dress is too tight and the shoes Kurt forced her into are killing her.

Greg has been smiling and referencing inside jokes with his Julliard buddies all night. She feels out of place next to him, until he whispers how beautiful she looks in her ear. This relationship isn't love she knows that, but Greg will help her find her way. And then, well, she has much better hopes for her future.

"Can I get you another one?"

She eyes her glass, before tossing the last of its contents.

"Yes, thank you."

A hand comes to rest on her waist, Greg's musty cologne wafts into her nose. She hates it.

"Hello darling, having fun?"

"Of course, just getting a refill."

She kisses him then, because she's supposed to. It feels fake. His lips against hers.

There's a sudden commotion behind her. It's Kurt.

"Rachel I need to talk to you, ALONE."

She sees his eyes glance toward Greg, Kurt's never liked him.

"Could you excuse us for a second, I'll be right back."

Following Kurt through the crowd and into a back room, she's prepared for another "You're too good for him" lecture.

"Okay Kurt, I get it you hate Greg, but really once you get to know him, he's not-"

"This has nothing to do with him. You're not going to believe this, but, Finn was just here."

"Here as in New York? Or here as in this bar?"

"Both."

"What?! Where is he now?"

"I saw him go over to talk to you, and then he bolted. It's not hard to figure out why."

"He probably saw Greg and I kiss, oh God what am I going to do?"

"You're going to leave him alone."

"What? Why? I have to talk to him."

"This is going to break him. More than sending you to New York. If you contact him, it's just going to make things worse. Promise me you won't?"

"Kurt you know I can't-"

"Promise me."

"Fine, I promise."

"Okay good, now I'm going to leave you to get yourself together. And Rachel, this is what's best for Finn. I may not be Greg's biggest fan, but you need to move on. If Greg helps you, than well, that's alright."

The door shuts behind him, leaving her alone.

Taking out her phone she dials the familiar number. She's never been so nervous and afraid.

It rings six times before going to voice mail.

"Finn, it's me, Rachel. Kurt said you were here, in New York. If you saw what I think you saw, then yes, I've moved on. Greg is what I need. But I want you to know that I'm glad you're safe. Just, take care of yourself. Goodbye."

It's not what she meant to say, but maybe Kurt's right, sending Finn on his way, it's better.

Turning off her phone she throws in into her clutch and heads back to the party, and Greg.

**AN/2:So how was it? Terrible? Flashbacks are tricky but I think I got the voices right. Stay tuned!**


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